


just a little change

by sanzuh



Series: tale as old as time [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post - A Dance With Dragons, wolfish Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:46:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanzuh/pseuds/sanzuh
Summary: Wolfish Jon is so adorable I couldn’t stop thinking about him, so I ended up writing this little drabble.sansaswildlinglover >>> direwolfjon
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: tale as old as time [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968514
Comments: 64
Kudos: 197
Collections: Jonsa Autumn Drabbles 2020





	just a little change

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t manage to finish my original drabble for Day 6 of the Autumn Event, which I’ll probably turn into a longer fic at some point, so I’d like to submit this as a late entry for the prompt _keeping warm_

Jon was agitated, slightly panicked even as Sansa tried to leave his room, so she decided to stay with him. 

Brienne wanted to stay as well, but Sansa knew how exhausted her Lady Knight was, so she ordered her to find a bed and get some rest. The look on her face was positively disgruntled as she left, but she obeyed.

Sansa was slightly worried that she’d be cold as she tried to get to sleep in this dark room, but as soon as she curled up in the narrow bed, Jon cuddled up against her back, burying his face in her hair.

He’s so incredibly warm, and the feel of his body against hers is of such great comfort to her.

She falls asleep surprisingly quickly, but the nightmares don’t stay away that night. It’s Jon’s low growl that wakes her up. 

He’s holding her in an iron grip, and she can hear him sniffing the air.

“Jon?” she whispers.

She can hear him gulp as he stops growling. “Sansa not safe?” he asks hesitantly. The tip of his nose skims the shell of her ear and he inhales deeply. “Fear,” he concludes.

“It was just a dream,” she tells him, covering his hand with her own. He relaxes against her and he loosens his hold on her. 

She doesn’t want to think about the nightmare she had, so mostly to distract herself she asks him: “You can smell my fear?”

She turns around in his arms until she’s lying on her back so she can look at his face. His tongue keeps darting out to wet his lips and there are deep creases in his forehead as he narrows his eyes.

“Different now,” he says. “Sansa smell pretty.”

Heat flushes her cheeks. She hopes he can’t see her blush in the dark. 

He nuzzles her cheek. “Sansa pretty,” he repeats. He perks up, propping himself up on an elbow and gazes down at her with his mouth slightly hanging open. “Sansa mine?” he asks her.

She clasps a hand over her own mouth to keep herself from giggling. Her face must be as red as a beet by now.

“I’m your sister,” she tries to explain to him.

His shoulders sag and he pouts as his face folds into a frown. “Pack?” he says doubtfully.

She tilts her head up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Aye, I’m your pack, and you’re mine.”


End file.
